


everyday words seems to turn into love songs

by orphan_account



Series: random ramvers fics [6]
Category: Captain Marvel (2019), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 1990s, 1999, Alternate Universe - 1990s, Confused Carol, Domestic Bliss, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Memories, Memory Loss, Military Homophobia, Period-Typical Homophobia, RamVers, Rambeau Family, and a lot of feelings lol, and a lot of memories that don't make sense, carol has a lot of questions, danbeau, one of these days ill write something that isn't just pure angst, soft babies, spacewives, that day isn't today
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-19 23:34:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20665646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "We used to do this, she thinks. Watch the sunset. And just like then, her heart’s running away in her chest, and the cicadas are thrumming up a storm like a grand orchestra of pianos, violins, and banjos. As she goes, she lets her fingers tangle in the high grass, yet another memory flashing upon her; how pretty the grass smelt after a fresh rainshower and how perfect her and Maria’s feet looked together, submerged in the resulting puddles of water at the bottom of their porch.She pauses behind Maria and just stands there.The space between them had never seemed so canyonic.". . .Carol tries to make sense of her relationship with Maria.





	everyday words seems to turn into love songs

**Author's Note:**

> I was watching Walle the other day (still love it) and loved a bunch of the songs in there, but la vie en rose by Louis Armstrong just stuck with me, so now you guys are stuck with it, too, enjoy.  
ALSO, Talos's daughter isn't canonically named, so Imma just call her Andromeda in all of my fics.  
ALSO, this takes place in 1999.

There’s a funny thing about her memories.

Before she returned to earth, before she remembered Maria, to be specific, it was like trying to scoop water out of a canyon, one tiny lunge at a time.

Now, she has memories of a cream-colored Mustang with chipped leather seats, afternoons spent splashing in massive waves of the beach with a toddler Monica stumbling after them, and every class of aircraft she flew between ‘79 and ‘89.

There are still holes, of course, many of which she knows will likely never fill. But it’s easier with Maria.

Lots of things are easier with Maria.

"Hey, Firestarter." A paper ball bops her on the nose. She ceases spinning in her revolving chair, catches the next ball that soars at her, and looks up to find Nick watching her. He’s going for stern, but with the fluffy flerken in his lap and the goofy eyepatch, it’s not really landing. "You better be filling out that report."

She rolls her eyes, spins her pencil around her finger, and leans her head against the back of her chair. She thinks of Maria as she’d left her this morning, humming the theme to the Addams Family over a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch. She can’t carry a tune worth a damn, but the sound of her voice has always made her happy.

Another paper ball launches towards her, but she catches this one. Nick smirks, scratches Goose underneath her chin, and cocks his head to the side. 

“If you’re thinking of just leaving this shit for later”, he says, rising to his feet. Goose meows, lazily leaping to the floor and curling up against Carol’s ankles. “I’m more than inclined to support you.”

“No, it’s not that.” She reaches for her plate where her sub rests, pulls free a meatball, and tosses it to Goose.

Nick crouches before the mini fridge in the corner and calls out, “Memory stuff?”

“Yeah.” Goose mewls, pawing at her thighs until Carol bends over and picks her up. Carol shakes her head, a frown forming, and thinks back to the thoughts that’ve been plaguing her, really, ever since she first set foot on this planet. Thoughts that don’t make sense, thoughts that make all the sense in the world and, yet, don’t compute with reality. She keeps her eyes on the spike-studded collar around Goose’s neck as she quietly asks, “You ever loved anyone before?”

The fridge door closes with a slam. Nick returns to his seat with two Pepsis in hand. Carol accepts her with fidgety fingers, tiny flakes of light trailing behind in her wake. 

“Yeah”, Nick says, popping the lid of his can. He takes a sip and nods. “Roslyn Smith.” Fondly, he shakes his head and smiles. “Cared a whole lot about people. Smiled real pretty, too.” He licks his lips, and something forlorn, mournful bleeds throughout his eyes. He turns his attention to the file before him and nods once more. “Roslyn.”

Carol can’t help it. “What happened?” She wants to know. It was just a flicker of a second, the slight betrayal of his eyes, of his voice, but it’s obvious he cared about her. And if it’s anything like the way she thinks she cares about Maria, Carol can’t imagine how a love like that could just fall through.

Nick flicks his eyes to her. He’s holds her gaze for a moment, then, slowly, lowers his eyes back to his folder. “This line of work”, he says, flipping through the pages. “It don’t always...fit with being a family man.”

She gets that. She thinks they all, in some way or another, get that. Nick. Maria. Talos. Phil. For all the good that their work does, it doesn’t come without sacrifice.

That being said, everyone else at least knows what they’re sacrificing. She doesn’t even know what she’s supposed to be fighting for.

“I think I loved Maria”, Carol says, the way she might ask if he wants anything from the vending machine. 

She’s been thinking about it. With so much free time, for the first time in a long time, thinking’s just about the only thing she can do. And with her memory as fucked as it is, there’s only so much she can go over.

A lot of it doesn’t fit. The way she and Maria held each other at home versus their interactions in public; the fact that they lived together, raised a child together, planned a future together, and the only names she can come up with are “best friend” and “Auntie Carol”; the battling feelings of fondness and affection whenever she and Maria get close and the resulting, almost incapacitating feelings of shame and secrecy. It’s like trying to make sense of two realities and hoping beyond all hope that only one of them was real.

“I had a feeling”, Nick says, and there’s that sadness in his tone again, but, this time, it’s directed at her. Carol frowns and looks over at him, but he’s already gone back to his paperwork.

She sits there a minute, eventually joining him in filling out her report, before the clock strikes seven and she decides to call it a day.

She pauses before him, though, leaning over to kiss his cheek and whisper, “I think you’re a family man”.

Nick just swats at her, and Carol sticks her tongue out. She catches fire, flames licking up and down her body, and darts out of the office, but not before seeing the soft smile upon his face.

. . .

By the time she returns, the sun’s just about set over the treetops. The porch light is lit, and the radio is on, playing a soft ballad Carol faintly recognizes the tune of. She hums, ascending the steps with a familiarity as ingrained as flying, pausing only when the screen door slams open and Monica comes spiralling out.

She’s got her headphones on and beams wide as she shouts, “Hey, Auntie! Andromeda and me are going to the movies! Be back at eleven!” She springs down the steps, calling out over her shoulder as she goes, “Momma’s out back!”

Carol chuckles, shaking her head as Andromeda’s cruiser flickers in its camouflage up the road. She waves, watching until Monica disappears into the cruiser and fades into the mirage of colors of the sunset. Then she turns around, pulls back the screen, and steps into the house.

Immediately, she’s greeted by the scent of something salty and meaty; beef stew, probably. Carol smiles, thinking of chilly nights before a staticky TV screen and warm ceramic bowls within her hands. She passes through the house quickly and soon finds herself standing on the back porch.

Sure enough, there stands Maria, in a long-flowing, carrot-orange dress, arms wrapped ‘round herself like she’s afraid a breeze could come along and blow her away. Slowly, Carol descends the porch and starts through the grass.

_ We used to do this _ , she thinks.  _ Watch the sunset _ . And just like then, her heart’s running away in her chest, and the cicadas are thrumming up a storm like a grand orchestra of pianos, violins, and banjos. As she goes, she lets her fingers tangle in the high grass, yet another memory flashing upon her; how pretty the grass smelt after a fresh rainshower and how perfect her and Maria’s feet looked together, submerged in the resulting puddles of water at the bottom of their porch.

She pauses behind Maria and just stands there.

The space between them had never seemed so canyonic.

“Dinner’s ready”, Maria says, stirring Carol out of her thoughts. She turns to face Carol, smiles, and tucks a stray curl behind her ear. “Monica made it but.” She snorts, and Carol smiles, too. “Don’t tell her I told you.” She spares the sunset one last look, then jerks her head to the house. Carol follows her without protest.

They wind up in the kitchen, like they do in most of her memories. Some of them at the sink, others, at the stove. Tonight, Carol hovers in between, passing her the spices Monica had missed and serving as taste-tester when needed.

It’s so familiar, it hurts. Because more and more, she gets this feeling, the feeling that something’s missing. 

“You promised me a new pot”, Maria teases, hands wrapped comfortably around her wooden spoon.

“I intend to keep it”, Carol returns with an eyeroll. Her hands dip down to the spoon; she thinks of Maria’s palms and the calluses that reside there and how the skin’s a lighter shade of brown and how she used to trace her fingers over her palm lines. All at once, she feels calmer; tranquil; at home.

Of course, it’s at that moment that her shoulders combust into flames and set the curtain above her on fire.

Afterwards, she and Maria sit in the dining room, Carol doning a light blush and Maria a fresh burn over her forearm. Maria’s not upset; worried, maybe, but she’s not upset.

“Where’s your head at?”

Carol looks up from where she’s staring at the table and blinks. “What?”

Maria just smiles. “You’re not here. Not all the way.” She leans forward, shakes her shoulders, and raises her eyebrows. “Come on. It’s me.”

She looks at her. Really, really looks at her. Because there’s no stopping the words that are about to come tumbling out of her mouth but if this doesn’t go the way she wants it to, she wants to take in every feature, every mole, every scar, every distinction about Maria. In the end, just when Maria’s face has grown worried, Carol settles her gaze upon Maria’s eyes, brown and calm, lighthouses of sanctuary in the storm that’s ever surrounded their lives. She drinks her in and takes the plunge. “I loved you.”

_ Love _ , she’s quick to correct. But she’s testing the waters. If it helps Maria to think those feelings no longer exist, then she can keep it past tense. She twiddles her thumbs and shyly looks up at Maria. “Did you love me?”

Maria just stares at her. She presses her lips together, wipes a shaky hand over her face, and pushes herself up from her seat. “Course I loved you”, she says, her back to her as she turns back to the stew. “You’re my best friend.”

Carol frowns. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

On one of the stove burners, a tea kettle begins to whistle. Maria turns it off, but it isn’t silenced; it just keeps whistling.

“Maria?” Maria unbuttons her shirt and wipes the back of her arm over her forehead. Carol clenches and unclenches her hands. "Maria?" 

Maria turns on the fan, draining out the tunes of the radio and the symphony and insects outdoors. Carol flushes bright red and shouts,"Maria!" just as the overhead lights explode and the tea kettle’s lid pops off and goes careening through the window. Maria doesn’t even move. She just stands there, eyes downcast and hands trembling.

"Please." Carol lets out an airy breath and wiggles her nose. Faintly, she can hear Maria chuckling and idly saying,  _ You’re just a regular old Samantha Stephens, ain’t you? _ She pushes the memory aside, pushes the happiness aside because she’s  _ hurting _ now-they both are-and this isn’t the time disappear down Memory Lane. "I need to know who I am to you." She steps forward and bites her lip, pausing when she’s just a foot away from her. She leans forward, just in time to see teardrops sliding down the side of Maria’s nose. 

"You’re my best friend", Maria whispers, hand raised and clenched against her chest as she’s if afraid it might reach out against her will. A fresh ripple of tears wells in her eyes. "That’s all you ever could be." 

Carol reaches out and takes hold of Marias hand, her movements cautious and controlled. She smiles, chest tight with the emotion Maria’s response has prompted, and just watches her. 

She doesn’t know what Maria means, doesn’t know why they had to hide who they were to each other. Her memory’s fucked beyond recognition, pun very much intended, and she hasn’t enough knowledge of earth to piece any of it together. But at the end of the day, she doesn’t need to know that bit. Because whatever it was, it couldn’t have been a good memory. 

And why obsess over those when she has better memories? Like attempting and failing to plant an eggplant garden weeks before winter. Like belting out showtunes in their bedroom at ass o’clock in the morning. Like spending Valentine’s Day in the ER because Carol forgot to tell Maria she was allergic to gerber daisies. 

There’s a lot of shit missing. But if this is what’s left...Carol could be okay with that. 

"I never stopped", Maria grits out; she presses the back of her hand against Carol’s cheek, soft and gentle like she remembers. Carol leans into it, swooning internally as Marias arms find their way around her waist. "I always thought if anybody could survive that wreck, it’d be you." 

Carol sinks her face into the crook of Maria’s shoulder. "Did you love me?"

Maria cries. But this time, it’s a happy cry. She sways in her feet, and Carol dips her hands to her waist. Maria sniffles, blinks loose a few tears from her eyelashes, and just sighs, a great, heaving breath of air. She presses their foreheads together, and, all at once, it’s like she’s looking at a different Maria for how light she suddenly seems. 

"Yeah." Maria runs a hand through Carol’s hair and smiles. "Yeah, I did." 

. . . 

She’s supposed to come in early tomorrow, help finalize the appeal granting Talos and Andromeda sanctuary, but Phil calls and tells her she has the day off. Carol suspects Nick had something to do with that, but she doesn’t sit on it for too long. Instead, she opts to stay at home with Maria. 

They spend the night in Maria's...their room. In their bed, underneath their sheets. Nothing happens; she thinks they’re both too afraid to really pursue anything, instead, just basking in each other’s warm and the fact that they could even do so. 

But it’s a tender, wholesome night all the same. Curious, like a child becoming acquainted with the world’s sensations for the first time. Maira makes everything feel like a first time. "I missed you", Carol murmurs, slotted perfectly against all her edges. "Even when I didn’t remember you." Maria looks down at her, no doubt feeling the way Carol’s arms tighten, almost fearfully, around her waist. She scoots up so that they’re chest to chest and gently presses their lips together. Then she rests her head back on Carol’s chest and closes her eyes. "I missed you, too." Then she turns off the bedside lamp, and they fall back asleep. 

Carol hadn’t known sleep could be so good.

**Author's Note:**

> They totally get back together, Nick is definitely an uncle-figure to Monica, and Monica and Andromeda absolutely get up to a ton of teenaged shenanigans in their space-cruiser.


End file.
